Benefactor
by seiyuna
Summary: Kuroro and Kurapika have a mutually beneficial arrangement. — Sugar Daddy AU. Post-Yorknew Arc.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Kuroro never asks to meet at a seedy motel or even a love hotel.

There's no doubt that this address belongs to an establishment of unrivaled prestige. A quick search on Kurapika's phone reveals that the hotel caters to the tastes of the privileged, a high-rise structure of steel and glass that stretches far into the sky. It looks grander than the last.

He doesn't understand why Kuroro needs to arrange for such refined accomodations, when something more nondescript would suit them just fine. Especially for the kind of meeting that's taking place tonight.

Tucking away his phone, he walks onward, letting the stretch of city lights and skyscrapers take him closer and closer to his destination. The distance by foot is longer than expected, but that gives him enough time to compose himself.

His reflection greets him in the glass windows of several boutiques, telling him that his attire looks like it belongs to any other businessman rushing to get to a dinner meeting or leaving their company after a long day at work. It's just that he looks rather young compared to everyone else on the streets.

If only it wasn't so difficult to fool himself.

His traditional garb has been exchanged for a suit befitting of someone of his occupation—an unexpected gift from Kuroro after their previous meeting. It's one of the few times he's worn something more modern, and it's certainly a different feeling to have such luxurious material tailored to his body. He fingers the silk tie around his collared neck, considers pulling it loose to rid himself of every trace of Kuroro, but stops himself.

Whether it was stolen or rightfully purchased, Kurapika shouldn't care.

But he does. He crosses the street, blending in with the crowd of pedestrians when all the cars slow at the red light, and eventually finds himself at the doors of the hotel. The reception area is incredibly spacious, all stark white with marble flooring and high ceilings. He proceeds through the open space, beneath the massive crystal chandelier and light ropes stretching from the ceiling, moving past the extensive art collection lining the walkway. It becomes routine now—checking in and confirming the reservation with the concierge, not looking back when he enters the elevators.

The glass elevators take him all the way to the 14th floor. Kurapika stops in front of a door with gilded numbers and fingers the key card in his pocket. This time doesn't have to be any different, his Nen capabilities are more than enough if need be, but instinct is telling him to stop, telling himself to value his body more.

His heart is racing like it always does, right before he steps beyond the door separating him from his—associate, if he can call Kuroro that. The fact that they're enemies hasn't changed, but he's certain that he's the only one who thinks that way. He takes a calming breath, eases the tension from his shoulders, and maintains his resolve. He's going to do what he came here for.

Kurapika slides the key card and slowly opens the door to a dim room. He steps inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. The wall across from him is an expansive glass window stretching from the ceiling all the way to the floor, boasting a highly coveted view of the city. But in front of the view is Kuroro, book in hand, bathing in the gentle lights of the night sky. He's relaxed in a plush chair next to a desk with a small lamp to support his reading.

Kuroro closes the book and looks up, smiling as if he hadn't noticed his presence earlier. The soft light makes him look more innocent that he really is. "You came."

Kurapika takes off his shoes and leaves them at the entrance. He approaches Kuroro silently, passing by the large bed against the side wall. The white sheets are free of any wrinkles or folds, like Kuroro hadn't touched the bed at all. "As scheduled."

Kuroro regards him with a small smile, taking in every contour and line of his body, making his thoughts known. "I'm happy that you wore this tonight. It suits you."

Kurapika frowns at the compliment. He feels overdressed when all Kuroro is wearing is a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, paired with plain black slacks. It's very casual compared to his attire with that atrocious fur coat and even his hair is left unstyled, falling over his forehead like he's just taken a shower.

"I'm taking it off anyway, aren't I?"

That earns him a chuckle. Kuroro lays his book against the table and folds his hands in his lap. "Of course. Go ahead, but take it slow."

It's not like this is the first time he's doing this, but Kuroro's unwavering stare makes him feel self-conscious.

Kurapika starts with his tie, pulling it loose, the weight of silk between his fingers instead of around his neck. He shrugs the blazer from his shoulders and lets it fall into a careless heap on the floor. He slows down his movements now, undoing each and every button of his dress shirt with care, exposing his torso and abdomen. It's supposed to be erotic, but it feels like anything but.

"Leave the shirt on," Kuroro says. It's an odd request but certainly harmless, so he complies.

Kurapika feels vulnerable like this, removing the rest of his clothes and baring everything for Kuroro to see. But he's swallowed his pride long ago for the sake of his duty. There's the hiss of the zipper and the rustle of fabric as he carefully rids himself of his pants, and Kuroro's gaze follow the movement of his hips as he does. Before long, his pants are on the floor with everything else and he's standing before Kuroro in only his shirt and undergarments.

"Not too bad." Kuroro smiles again, and it takes everything for Kurapika to refrain from punching that satisfied look from his face. He observes Kurapika patiently, not even reaching out to touch. "Now, get on the bed."

Kurapika's gaze flicks to him defiantly, before moving away. "I don't need you telling me this."

"You were rather clumsy the first time, so I thought you'd appreciate instructions." Kuroro's words stab at his pride. "Why don't you make yourself feel good for me?"

Without another word, Kurapika moves onto the bed, his face burning with heat. The white sheets are soft against his skin, and there's only the scent of clean linens rather than Kuroro's scent. With Kuroro's suggestion, he could do whatever he wanted, touch himself however he'd like. So he leans against the headboard and meets the expectant look in Kuroro's eyes.

"It's always a nice sight to see you in my bed," Kuroro says with approval, shifting his posture to lean forward on his elbows.

It's provocative, but Kurapika can't bring himself to respond. He averts his gaze for a moment, realizing that there's a small bottle of lubricant next to the pillows, undoubtedly meant for him. It's new and unused, prepared just for him.

Kurapika swallows. He's never touched himself from behind for Kuroro to see. But Kuroro raises an eyebrow, so he continues dragging his waistband down and divesting himself of his undergarments. He lies down now, taking the bottle in one hand and propping the cap open. His fingers are slightly trembling as he slicks them up, because there's nothing that would be more humiliating than this.

"Go on, Kurapika."

The sound of his name makes him shiver. He's not paying attention to Kuroro now, just focuses on the luxurious material behind his body, the cold sensation of lubricant at his entrance as his fingers linger there. He's not ready to do this just yet, and takes his member with his other hand. He touches himself slowly, taking his time to compose himself and stroke himself to hardness.

"Keep your eyes open."

Kurapika's heartbeat quickens again, because the sound of footsteps are approaching the bed. The bed sinks in with the weight of another person and when he looks up, Kuroro's made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

"What are you—"

"Just wanted to get a better view of your face."

Kurapika lets out a shaky breath. He continues stroking himself, the weight heavy in his palm, while holding Kuroro's gaze at the same time. Heat pools at his abdomen with every pull of his hand and surely, his eyes are scarlet now. Not from vengeance, not from hatred, but from the _want_ that threatens to burn his body from the inside out.

"Have you thought of me before," Kuroro asks, an amused look on his handsome face, "while touching yourself?"

"No," Kurapika lies. How else could he bring himself to completion, if he didn't think of the man in front of him?

"You haven't gotten any better at telling lies," Kuroro offers in thought, and a soft sound escapes Kurapika's throat. "Keep going."

This is the closest he's been to Kuroro so far. It's beyond embarrassing, but he finally presses a slick finger at his entrance and eases it inside himself slowly. Kuroro's gaze is dark, weighted with something indescribable as he gauges Kurapika's reaction. He's tight, but it's difficult to _not_ be tense when Kuroro's looking at him like that.

After stretching himself with the first finger, he's pushing two fingers in now, deeper this time. With his other hand, he works on pulling his hand up and down his length and the sensation of working himself in front and behind, under that heavy stare of Kuroro's, is too much to withstand.

He thrusts his fingers in and out, feeling himself relax a little more. They slide with exceptional ease and he can feel that familiar flame of arousal in his abdomen now, heightened with every touch inside him. The third finger is another thing entirely, because stretching himself this far, pressing at his most sensitive spot again and again makes his back arch.

"This is a good look on you," Kuroro says, and he could have sworn that there's a heat in Kuroro's own gaze, hidden beneath control and discipline.

The flush on Kurapika's cheeks deepens. He hates that Kuroro won't stop talking, hates himself for reacting at his words. The drag of his fingers nearly tears a moan from his throat, and he bites his lip to keep in a sound.

"I want to hear you," Kuroro says, low and coaxing.

Kurapika grits his teeth. "Give me a reason to let you."

"Remember why you're here," Kuroro answers with a soft laugh, too kind for the implications.

Kurapika curses to himself, but exposes himself entirely to Kuroro. He's fucking himself on his fingers and his next thrusts make him gasp and whimper, the sounds filling the silence in the room. He can hardly believe that the sounds are coming from him.

Kuroro admires him fondly. "Do you feel good?"

"I don't—" Kurapika tells the truth for once. "Yes."

"Good."

Kuroro's tone is something that Kurapika could never describe aloud. It's—

Gentle.

And that's what makes him come all over his abdomen and Kuroro's bed, makes his thighs tremble with the overwhelming sensation, sends his body arching from a pleasure that only happens in Kuroro's presence. He's betrayed by his own body, revealing everything to his clan's murderer in a moment of vulnerability, and he's a _mess_. He gasps as he surrenders to the sensation, doesn't even care if Kuroro's watching him closely.

Kurapika works on catching his breath, trying to bring himself down from his high. He feels like a weightless mass on the bed with all the tension leaving his body. But Kuroro leaves much to be desired. He never touches Kurapika, never touches himself, despite that he can clearly see that his cock is straining against his pants.

Kurapika bites his lip. "Should I—take care of that?"

"No," Kuroro says, before moving away from the bed. "But thank you."

He makes no sense whatsoever. It's the first time that Kurapika has ever offered, but he didn't expect to be rejected immediately. He doesn't have to dwell on it long, because Kuroro returns with a plain box in his hands. He sets it on the bed next to where Kurapika is still lying down, and suddenly, his throat feels very tight.

"Do you want to shower and stay the night?"

Kurapika immediately sits up, his attention solely focused on the box in front of him. Kuroro can be rather whimsical, from lending him his credit card to gifting him material goods but most importantly—

"I'll take that as a no," Kuroro says with a tender smile. He uncovers the box with an unseeming reverence, revealing two canisters of a pair of the Scarlet Eyes, gently bouncing in the clear liquid. No matter how many times Kurapika sees them, his heart radiates with a deep, familiar sense of loss and pain. "This is for you. Come back tomorrow, and I'll have something else for you."

* * *

Notes: The sugar daddy fic that no one asked for, yet I am here to deliver. See you all in Hell..

I wrote most of this on my phone, so the prose is nowhere as polished as my other writing. Please don't take this too seriously.

I also had the idea of Kuroro giving Kurapika his first suit.

Please leave a comment—I'd love to know what you think so far.

You can also reach out to me on Tumblr at seiyuna.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Kurapika looks down at the sleek black box in Kuroro's hands. "What is this?"

"A small present for you," Kuroro tells him as if he's stating the obvious. It's not large by any means, but fits in both of his hands. "I promised you yesterday, didn't I?"

Kurapika runs his hands over the lapels of his new suit jacket. The material feels more luxurious than the first one. "I thought you just wanted to give me these clothes."

"That too." Despite his reluctance, Kuroro pushes the box into Kurapika's hands. "But I'd also like you to wear this for the reception next week."

Kuroro secured VIP admission to a private art auction where a pair of the Scarlet Eyes will be displayed. While he retrieves the Eyes, he expects Kurapika to intermingle with the guests at the reception hall.

"All you need to do is enjoy yourself and look pretty," Kuroro says, but his smile tells him that there's something more than that. "Go ahead and open it."

Kurapika admits that he's curious. He slides the cover of the box open and unwraps the tissue paper, not knowing what to expect, but nothing comes close to what he sees. Nestled against the velvet cushion is a small pink vibrator attached to a string, accompanied by a wireless remote. He's too stunned to even respond.

Nothing changes in Kuroro's expression. "What do you think?"

"What," Kurapika says when he finds his voice, "is this?"

"It's a toy." Kuroro plucks the small remote out, tossing in the air and catching it with one hand. "You should wear it under the suit."

It's nearly laughable. Kurapika hasn't denied any of his requests so far, but this is something he doesn't know if he can accommodate. "I'm unsure about this."

"It'll keep you busy at the reception." The lightness of Kuroro's tone belies a dangerous promise. "It'll make you feel good."

Kurapika expects the familiar burn of indignance scorching his core, from being treated as some kind of plaything for Kuroro's amusement. Instead, something like dread sinks deep into his stomach. "Is this necessary?"

"Necessary?" Kuroro taps the remote against his lips, feigning thought. "No, not at all. But I'll be very pleased if you do this. I won't impose on you for the rest of the week either."

Kurapika takes another look at the shocking pink of the toy, before covering the box again with a carefully composed expression. It's easy to feel slighted, with blood burning hot in his veins, empty threats on his tongue, fists clenched as if he were to punch Kuroro and walk out on him. But Kuroro doesn't get to have the luxury of seeing him like that again.

It's not an impossible request when he received a pair of the Eyes yesterday, when there's the promise of another, but to go this far for him—

He reminds himself that he's not doing this for Kuroro.

"I'll think about it."

Kuroro doesn't ask for anything more and sends him away after that. Kurapika leaves the box on his bedside table without touching it, though it's not as if he can even do anything with it when Kuroro keeps the remote with him.

The week passes without contact from Kuroro, but he returns to Kuroro's hotel room the evening of the auction, fully dressed in everything Kuroro wanted from him. He shouldn't have returned here, like all the other times he's come here, but he's sitting on the edge of Kuroro's bed now. The suit jacket gives his shoulders more structure when he's on the slighter side, and the matching black slacks taper his legs seamlessly.

Kurapika waits on the bed as Kuroro buttons up his dress shirt, meeting his eyes in the full-length mirror. Kuroro regards him deeply as Kurapika watches Kuroro's tie glide into place, something like satisfaction in his eyes. In the absence of the tie, Kurapika imagines the weight of his chains around Kuroro's neck.

"I do like it when you wear the things I give you."

Kurapika crosses his legs, and Kuroro isn't subtle in the way he looks at him, as though he's something expensive. "You know you can spend your wealth on other things."

"I'd rather spend it on you," Kuroro answers with ease, sliding on his own suit jacket. "In fact, I have something else for you tonight."

Kurapika's tone grows cautious. "It's not perverse, is it?"

Kuroro turns to face him. "Come here."

Kurapika's footsteps are slow and measured as he approaches where Kuroro stands. He holds his breath when Kuroro suddenly reaches over him, unsure of what to expect. Kuroro's close enough that Kurapika can smell his cologne.

He catches the sheen of crimson fabric spilling over Kuroro's hand, only realizing what's happening when he glances at their reflection in the mirror. There's the whisper of silk over Kurapika's shirt collar as Kuroro loops the length of a tie around his neck, as gentle as flowing water.

Kuroro comes close to brushing against Kurapika's neck, but he doesn't. His fingers slide all the way up until a knot settles in place, straightening the tie. The weight of something belonging to Kuroro at his throat leaves him breathless.

Kuroro steps back, sweeping an admiring glance over Kurapika from head-to-toe, before smiling in approval. He lifts the end of the tie and presses a kiss to it, meeting Kurapika's gaze as he does.

"You look lovely."

A faint flush rises over Kurapika's cheeks, even though Kuroro didn't touch him at all. As Kuroro lets the tie drop, Kurapika's hand shakes slightly as he traces his fingers over smooth silk, the color of blood-red rubies, the lingering trace of Kuroro over his skin.

"You seem to prefer this over me undressing," Kurapika says, considering how the fabric drapes over his fingers.

"Because it feels like I'm wrapping a precious gift, only I'm the only one who knows what's inside." Kuroro's tone is too casual for what he means. "You're wearing it, aren't you?"

Kurapika averts his gaze. "I am."

"Good," Kuroro says, pleased. He picks up the small remote on his drawer and slips it into his back pocket. "Don't take it out tonight."

* * *

The opening night reception doesn't stray far from any other black tie affair, with well-dressed guests conversing among themselves and nursing wine glasses in hand. Kurapika wears the part well, but he remains by himself while Kuroro is somewhere in the exhibition halls. It's not as if he would usually engage in conversation anyway.

His breath comes more unsteady, when the toy hums quietly inside him. He busies himself with a glass of wine, leaning against one of the tall windows in the back of the reception hall and distancing himself from the crowd. He's too conscious of the sound emanating from the low vibration, the pressure inside him that edges on too much whenever he moves.

A man eventually approaches him, a few years older than Kuroro, but he has classically handsome features if Kurapika regards him objectively. He tells Kurapika about the company he works for and the art pieces he's looking forward to purchasing tonight, but Kurapika only gives concise replies and closes off his body language—can't find it in himself to pretend to care. Kurapika doesn't even remember his name when he divulged it earlier. He nearly rolls his eyes when the man doesn't seem to catch on.

"You look a little flushed. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine—I've been drinking all night," Kurapika says. "It's a little warm in here too."

The man offers Kurapika a pleasant smile. "Would you like to get some fresh air with me?"

Kurapika considers how Kuroro will react if he leaves with another man. Before he can respond, the toy inside him increases in intensity, nearly punishing him with the way it presses against his most sensitive parts. Kurapika's eyes widen, his mouth parts, but no sound leaves him.

Kurapika looks past the man, finding the louche lines of Kuroro's suit among the throng of guests, a gentleman's mannerisms in the way he speaks to them. Their eyes suddenly meet. While Kuroro casts him a knowing smile, Kurapika returns it with a scowl, definitive challenge in his eyes.

Kurapika grits his teeth and forces himself to smile. His hand clenches into a fist, digging crescents into his palm, and he wonders if anyone else can hear the vibration or if it's just him. "I'll be fine. I'm actually waiting for someone here."

The man looks apologetic. "A date?"

"An acquaintance," Kurapika replies tersely.

"While you're waiting, why don't we get some desserts?" The man gestures to the assortment of pastries and cakes set on the tables nearby. "It'd be a shame if you didn't try them before everyone finishes them."

"That sounds nice," Kurapika says, turning to go with him. The back of his neck burns, and he swears that he feels the blood-burning weight of Kuroro's gaze behind him. His heart beats a little faster.

Kurapika lets out a shuddering breath as he follows him, the solid weight of the vibrator shifting inside him with every step he takes. He's keenly aware of the other guests around him and takes care not to brush against anyone. When they're at the desserts, Kurapika leans against a table as the man speaks to him again like a connoisseur, trying to keep himself steady on his feet. His pants are too tight, and as much as he aches to flee to the restroom to relieve himself, all he can manage is attempt to hide the erection straining at his slacks.

The man picks up a glass of water from the beverages table, holding it out to him. "Maybe this will help you feel better?"

Kurapika feels as though he's burning from the inside out. He can hear how harsher his breathing becomes, how difficult it is to swallow. "Yes, thank you."

Just as his fingers brush against the man's hand, the vibrator increases in both speed and strength, sending lightning-sharp vibrations up Kurapika's spine. Kurapika's hand finds the edge of the tablecloth. His vision pulses scarlet for the faintest of heartbeats, and he immediately shuts his eyes in order to compose himself.

When Kurapika meets the man's concerned gaze, he accepts the glass of water with his other hand, visibly shaking as takes a sip, willing himself not to drop the glass. He catches sight of Kuroro staring from a distance, provocative, and the pressure inside is so overwhelming that Kuroro may as well be using his hands to touch him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Kurapika sets down the glass. His muscles clench around the toy, but that only makes him more aware of the vibrations pulsing inside his body. The heat of it is unbearable, and there's not much he can do when the toy is nestled against his prostate, controlled only by Kuroro's hand. When he tries to move, he falters and catches himself on the edge of the table, vision swimming before him.

"I—" Kurapika thinks that he's going to lose it, when the toy suddenly _stops_. His voice breaks in his throat, and he wants to cry out in frustration. "I'm good."

The man steps forward, as if to reach out to him, but Kurapika takes a step back. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

Kurapika nods, keeping his distance. He hopes that the battery died or Kuroro has gotten bored of the whole thing. "You were saying about—"

But the vibrator turns on again at full force, sending nearly painful sparks coursing through his entire body. Kurapika feels heat rising in his core, the muscles of his abdomen tightening at once. He's falling, about to spill to his knees, but an arm wraps around him, catching him by the waist. He recognizes the scent as Kuroro's cologne, and the sudden contact forces Kurapika over the edge, his climax shattering through him with an intensity he has never known before. Kurapika bites his lip to silence himself, and a gasp slips past his lips. His legs give out, but Kuroro doesn't let him fall.

His head falls onto Kuroro's chest, and he can barely move in his stupor. Kurapika can't bear to look at either Kuroro or the man, choosing to bury his face in Kuroro's shoulder. The shame and humiliation of it all burn at his cheeks.

"Darling, you don't look too well." Kuroro smooths a deliberate hand over the small of Kurapika's back, as if to make the man know exactly who Kurapika belongs to. The hum of the vibrator finally ceases, and Kurapika breathes a sigh of relief. "Why don't we go to the restroom?"

Kurapika doesn't dare respond, not knowing what will come out of his mouth. Still stunned and horrified, he can only nod in response.

"Then," Kuroro says to the man, but Kurapika can't see the expression on his face. Kuroro's grip tightens over his waist. He can imagine a courteous smile on Kuroro's lips turning into something rather sly. "If you'll excuse us."

Kuroro guides him away from the reception hall, steadying him every time he stumbles over his feet. Kurapika leans heavily on him, trying not to fall over.

"I have the Eyes," Kuroro murmurs when they're in the hallway, low into his ear. Kurapika writhes at the way Kuroro's breath ghosts over his skin, makes his knees weak when he is anything but. "Let's get going."

Kurapika shakes his head, fisting his hands into Kuroro's jacket. "You said—you said we'd go to the restroom." He looks up at him, complexion flushed. "So take me there."

Something curious flickers in Kuroro's eyes. He pulls Kurapika into the furthest restroom at the end of the hall, one without an attendant. There's no one inside, and he leads Kurapika into one of the stalls, locking the door behind him.

Kuroro kicks down the lid of the toilet and places his hands on Kurapika's shoulders, carefully setting him down on the cover. Kurapika feels too warm, and he shrugs out of his suit jacket, letting Kuroro hang it on the hook of the stall door. The knot of his tie comes undone, and Kurapika pulls it loose until the tie is draped over his neck.

The weight of Kuroro's gaze is palpable on his skin. "Take off your pants too."

Kurapika fumbles with his belt, hands shaky as he gets it undone. He pulls off his pants, exposing the dampness in his undergarments, and shrugs them off too.

Kuroro's smile is mild. "You came just from my touch."

"You mean from the toy up my ass," Kurapika retorts. "Take it out already."

He should have rephrased that, because Kuroro is already moving closer to him. Kuroro kneels on one knee and tugs on the string running down his thigh. Kurapika's body feels empty the moment the vibrator slips out, so quickly that he gasps, his opening clenching around nothing.

"To think you've been wearing this all night." Kuroro's gaze is full of admiration. "You've been good for me, haven't you?"

Kurapika doesn't know how to respond to that. He tries to focus on Kuroro's face, still dazed. "You want to watch me do all these things, but you never ask me to touch you."

"So you want to touch me?" Kuroro asks, amusement in his voice.

It's not a matter of what Kurapika wants, but what Kuroro does. He can blame it on the alcohol tomorrow when he says, "If you asked me to suck you off, I would."

"As appealing as that sounds," Kuroro says with slight surprise, "maybe I'll take you up on that another time."

"Just an example." Kurapika looks down at Kuroro kneeling between his thighs. He can see Kuroro's erection pressing against the fabric of his pants. "You don't touch yourself either. Don't you ever…?"

All of a sudden, Kuroro slides a hand over Kurapika's bare thigh. Skin against skin. "Believe me, I get off at the thought of making a mess out of you. But not while you're around."

Kurapika's throat constricts. The revelation makes something turn over in his chest, makes him a little bolder.

It tempts him.

Kurapika can't fathom the restraint Kuroro possesses to keep his composure and neglect his own needs. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol in his blood or the intensity of his orgasm earlier, but everything narrows down to Kuroro touching him now and the warmth against his skin.

"Do you ever want to?" Kurapika dares to ask, watching as Kuroro's gaze darkens. "Make a mess out of me?"

He places a hand over Kuroro's own. It's the closest thing to seduction he's ever done.

"Tell me what _you_ want, Kurapika. I'll spoil you."

Kuroro says this as if he can guarantee anything Kurapika desires, just as long as he asks for it. Their arrangement should revolve around him giving Kuroro what he wants, not the other way around. But whenever Kurapika entertains one of his requests, he returns the favor two-fold.

Kurapika's face burns. His heart pounds in his eardrums. What he wants should be an end to all of this—coming to Kuroro whenever he calls for him, exposing himself in unimaginable ways with Kuroro as his only witness. But it isn't. He knows he shouldn't want this, but his chest aches with the unfathomable depths of longing and his lungs are heavy with the weight of it.

He aches for something inside him. This goes beyond the boundaries they agreed upon, goes even further beyond the boundaries he has for himself when it comes to Kuroro. He should fight it, when he shouldn't long for someone like this. But arousal pools hot in his lower abdomen, making him lose the last of his inhibitions.

He wills himself to think of chains and blood and vengeance. There's none of that here. He's going to give more control to someone who already has too much of it.

"Instead of the toy—" Kurapika nearly chokes on his words. "I'd rather have you inside me."

He wonders how long he has wanted this. He wonders why he keeps on coming back and why he stays.

"Are you sure?" Kuroro's mouth curves in a satisfied smile. His voice is frustratingly calm, even if he knows the answer. "We haven't been together for long, and you want to sleep with me already?"

"I'm sure." Kurapika bites his lips. It's not desperation, but unadulterated want. He wonders if Kuroro has wanted the same thing, if he has waited all this time. "Here and now."

Kuroro doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even deny him when Kurapika's request is something that neither of them would have ever imagined. He stands up and takes out his wallet from his back pocket, opening it up to retrieve a packet of lubricant. He tosses the packet over, and Kurapika catches it in one hand. "Slick yourself up for me. Is that all?"

"I want you to touch yourself while watching me."

Kuroro arches a brow.

"If that's what you want," Kuroro answers mildly. His belt buckle gets undone with a click, and he pulls the belt loose. Finally, Kurapika will get to see him unravel.

Kurapika tears the foil and coats his fingers with the gel. Only a week has passed since he touched himself like this, because he only does so when Kuroro is watching. Leaning back, Kurapika spreads his legs over the cover. Despite the uncomfortable position and Kuroro's unwavering stare, Kurapika presses a slick finger against his opening. The cold sensation makes him shiver, but he exhales to relax himself. He doesn't hesitate this time and pushes onward.

His finger slides in with ease when he's already stretched out from the toy. He curls his finger when he's in deeper, pressing against his most sensitive spot. The muscles of his abdomen clench when he looks up at Kuroro.

Kuroro's pants are open, exposing the slightest hint of defined muscles. Staring at Kurapika without shame, Kuroro slides his hand beneath the waistband of his black boxer briefs, pulling himself free.

The sight makes Kurapika's throat dry.

He doesn't know how that's going to fit inside him.

Kuroro leans against the stall door, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking himself with languid movements. Kurapika would be lying to himself if he didn't like this, because it's him watching Kuroro for a change.

Kurapika works himself open with two fingers, face burning as Kuroro continues regarding him with the heat of his gaze. Kurapika's movements are driven by what he likes, what he knows will feel good, and especially what Kuroro wants to see. He bites down to stifle a sound.

Kuroro laughs quietly. He increases his pace, sliding his hand up and down his length, the slick sound filling the silence. "Are you that eager to have me inside?"

"Kuroro," Kurapika moans, just as he thrusts his fingers inside.

Kuroro's breath hitches. Something sparks in that dark and endless gaze, and it's so satisfying to know that Kurapika can affect him in some way. He stops talking after that, only touches himself in time with Kurapika.

Eventually, Kurapika withdraws his fingers. "I think—I think I'm ready."

"Stand up and turn over," Kuroro says, voice pitched low.

Kurapika listens to him, moving over to the adjacent wall and splaying his hands over it. Kuroro follows behind him, his chest pressing against his back, and Kurapika's heart races at his proximity. He feels unguarded in this position when he can't see Kuroro, but Kuroro's smoothing his hands over his backside, spreading him, and he can't focus on anything else.

Kuroro rubs the length of his cock between his cheeks, making Kurapika tense up and shiver in anticipation. The reality of it all hits him full force.

"Wait. Just—" Kurapika swallows past the dryness in his throat. He tries to glance back at Kuroro. "Just the tip."

Kuroro lets out a considerate hum. The thick head presses against Kurapika's entrance, breaching him, and Kurapika clenches around him. A soft groan falls from Kurapika's lips. It's not nearly enough, but it's thicker than anything else he's had. This should feel wrong, only it feels far from it.

Kuroro shifts as if to move deeper, but Kurapika seizes the fabric of his pants, pressing his hand against Kuroro's thigh to stop him. He realizes that Kuroro didn't even take his pants off, and there's something vulnerable about being bare while Kuroro is still clothed. "No more than the tip."

Kuroro sighs. He pulls back, only to push the head back in, nowhere deep enough to reach Kurapika's prostate, but the stretch is enough for now. Kurapika makes a soft sound, reaching down to take his aching length in hand. Kurapika strokes himself, finds himself tightening around Kuroro and—

Kuroro slams inside with the full length and thickness of him.

A harsh gasp tears from Kurapika's throat. Tears sting at his eyes.

"What—" Kurapika tries to breathe, but the fullness inside him is enough to stop his lungs entirely. Phosphenes dance in the periphery of his vision. "This is so much more than just the tip."

"You're boring me, darling." Kuroro moves his hands from Kurapika's hips to his backside, spreading him again where he's stretched out over Kuroro's erection. He rubs his thumb over Kurapika's rim, teasing him right there. "Should I pull out?"

"Don't," Kurapika says too quickly, too hoarse. There's none of the falseness from before. He braces himself with one arm on the wall, using the other to grip Kuroro's thigh again. He bears down on Kuroro's cock, taking him in deeper if that's even possible.

Kuroro lets out a soft laugh. "What do you want me to do?"

Heat churns deep in Kurapika's stomach, burns through his body, suffuses over his limbs. He doesn't know if it's from the impossible stretch or the intent in Kuroro's words.

One heartbeat of indecision passes, before Kurapika looks back at him with eyes burning scarlet. "Move."

Kuroro hums, pressing a kiss behind his ear. The gesture is too soft for what will come. He drags himself out and thrusts back in, forcing himself in as deep as he possibly can. Kurapika's body takes him inch by inch, so easily when he's well-prepared. Kurapika's head falls forward, forehead meeting the wall. His mouth is slack, a silent curse at his lips, and it feels as though he's going to fall apart when Kuroro makes another thrust, hitting that spot that makes him most vulnerable.

"You're so sweet," Kuroro croons in his ear. "Such a good boy."

Kurapika can't help but whimper. The last thing he wants to be is good for Kuroro's sake. He feels empty when Kuroro slides out, overwhelmingly full when Kuroro pushes back in and finds that perfect spot again. His knees tremble. He needs to stay upright.

"Better than the toy?" Kuroro asks playfully.

"Yes," Kurapika gasps out, because nothing compares to Kuroro filling him up. The next thrust is sharper than the last, making Kurapika lurch forward. He supports himself with his arms against the wall and when Kuroro rams back in, he clenches around him, as if to pull him in deeper. "Oh God, Kuroro."

"You feel nice too," Kuroro murmurs, startling fond. His hands move to unbutton Kurapika's shirt, slipping it over his shoulders. "So hot inside. Have you done this with anyone else?"

Kurapika can't bring himself to lie, too distracted by the heat of Kuroro moving inside him, the sudden chill of the surrounding air. He tries not to shudder when he answers. "Of course not."

Kuroro laughs again. "I thought so."

"If you can talk," Kurapika says on an exhale, "you can move faster."

"Just for you."

Kuroro grips his hips, hitching him up slightly when he slams all the way inside, forcing a startled sound from Kurapika's throat. Kuroro holds him steadily, his grip nearly bruising, as he finds a faster rhythm that makes Kurapika tremble with the force of his thrusts. The control Kurapika has over his voice slips, and a strangled moan escapes him.

"Don't be too loud," Kuroro whispers in his ear, just as he thrusts in again. Kurapika feels Kuroro's strength, Kuroro's power with every time he pushes inside and presses against his prostate, and he nearly moans again. The slick sound of Kuroro pounding into him is all he can hear.

Just as Kuroro seems to expect, the restroom door swings open. Footsteps follow with the chatter of several guests. The sound of the ventilation in the restroom should be enough to conceal their presence, but Kurapika neither trusts himself nor Kuroro.

Kurapika slaps a hand over his mouth when Kuroro doesn't stop moving. Kuroro keeps himself deep inside, grinding at his most sensitive parts with each small push, and Kurapika bites down hard enough to draw blood. How can he stay quiet with the weight of Kuroro at his back, his length buried inside his body?

Kurapika hears the water running and some conversation that he can't be bothered to focus on. Kuroro slides back until only the tip of his cock is inside, nearly pulling out of him, but he thrusts in suddenly, harsh and deep, and Kurapika slams a hand against the wall.

The water from the faucet stops. "Did you hear something?"

"Huh? No, it's just you."

An unsure laugh resounds through the restroom. "Maybe I had too much to drink."

The sound of footsteps tells them that someone is entering the stall next to theirs. Kurapika glares back at Kuroro, sight blurred from furious tears. Kuroro smirks before pulling out entirely.

Before Kurapika can protest, Kuroro's pushing him on his back against the wall so that they're facing each other. Kuroro slides both his hands over Kurapika's thighs and hitches him up against the wall, making his strength known. Kurapika lets out a small gasp, pressing his palm over his mouth again. The change in position in startling, but he wraps his legs over Kuroro's hips as Kuroro keeps his hands over his thighs.

The wall is too cold when Kuroro's heat threatens to burn his skin. Kuroro presses against his opening, sinks inside him, and the angle is everything Kurapika has ever wanted. A harsh shudder runs through him, at both the sensation of Kuroro pressing against his sensitive nerves and the thought of being caught in the midst of something indecent. He looks up, and finds Kuroro staring at him with his dark bangs plastered over his forehead, bandages coming undone, sweat beading at his temple. The heat in Kuroro's gaze steals the air from his lungs.

Kurapika wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer so that he doesn't have to look at him. Kuroro shoves him up on the wall as he thrusts, so deep that he can nearly feel Kuroro in his abdomen, making his back arch. Kurapika tosses his head back, exposing the line of his neck, and Kuroro leans in to press a gentle kiss over his skin. Kurapika's length brushes against Kuroro's shirt, and he bites back a sob.

If there's a next time, maybe he'll get to see all of Kuroro. Maybe he'll get to see him take it all off. He hears the dial tone of a cellphone in the other stall. The man must be making a call, and Kurapika ardently hopes that he'll leave soon.

Another thrust slams into him, and the spark of white-hot pleasure leaves him incoherent. Kurapika runs a hand over Kuroro's shoulder, trying to grasp at his jacket for leverage, as Kuroro moves relentlessly, still leaving soft kisses over his throat. The quiet moans spilling from his lips are smothered in his hand.

Kurapika's so close. He can't hold his voice in. He closes his eyes, but that only intensifies the sensation of Kuroro moving inside him, the scent of his cologne from his jacket. He rolls his hips, burying Kuroro deeper out of desperation. Kuroro's breath is warm over his throat. All it takes is Kuroro biting down, his cock bottoming out at the same time, and he's coming untouched. His mouth falls open and—

Kuroro shuts him up with a harsh kiss.

The desperate sound Kurapika makes is swallowed by Kuroro's lips. Kuroro's tongue pushes in, and there's nothing patient about this as he deepens the kiss. Kurapika tastes the sweetness of wine and extravagant desserts, and he wonders if this is what revenge tastes like. His hands slip to Kuroro's neck, wrapping around and scratching his nails over his skin, a reminder that Kurapika that can still be dangerous even in vulnerability. Kuroro groans quietly but continues pounding into his oversensitive body. His grip on Kurapika's thighs tighten. There's one last thrust, and Kuroro holds him there just as he feels the spill of Kuroro's release, flooding his insides, so hot and deep that he moans against Kuroro's mouth again.

Kuroro breaks the kiss to dip down and suck at the mark over Kurapika's throat. They stay like this until the restroom is empty, all dazed staring and quiet labored breathing. Kurapika's mind is too still, too quiet to even think of regret and how this will change their relationship.

When it's just them, Kuroro slides out of him with a wet sound, and Kurapika shivers at the sudden feeling of loss inside him. Kuroro carefully lowers him to his feet, but Kurapika's still clutching his shoulders for balance. A hand settles in Kurapika's sweat-damped hair, stroking him. Evidence of tonight drips down his thighs, making his face heat up again.

Kuroro presses a kiss over his hair. "How was it?"

 _Nothing short of breathtaking_ , Kurapika thinks.

"Nothing special," Kurapika says instead, and Kuroro laughs at the lie.

* * *

Notes:

It's been a while! Kurapika is more apathetic in the first chapter, but I wanted to force him to feel more here. Even if he's more needy.

Kuroro is impossibly patient but unfortunately, I'm not patient enough to write several chapters of them not touching. The change in pace is something new, and I'm thinking that the faster development will be more fun to write. You may have thought that Kuroro would give in first, but I prefer the other way around and Kurapika coming to him first. :)

I also like the idea of Kuroro showing Kurapika off at these kind of events. And we all know "just the tip" is a total lie.

Please leave a comment! I'm still thinking of what to write for the next chapter yet so feel free to suggest some prompts or kink tropes.

You can also reach out to me on Twitter (seiyunablog).


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